Behind The Scenes
by wordboy
Summary: What goes on in the mind of a writer of fan fiction?


**Behind The Scenes…**

John stared down the corridor, his eyes darting, as if expecting trouble. It was quiet onboard Moya, too quiet as far as he was concerned. The condition filled him with dread. Many of their greatest difficulties and biggest problems had begun when things were quiet.

A DRD scooted past him, on its way to perform some task. _At least they have something to do. With just the three of us here, Moya feels like a house with all the children gone._

John's eyes went wide and his knees began to shake. He put one hand against the corridor wall for support. His other hand went to his forehead, finding it suddenly slick with sweat.

_Oh God, I'm quoting Shatner!_

John rubbed his eyes again and took a deep breath. _You'd think that, after all these cycles of having people after my ass, I'd enjoy the peace and quiet. Thing is, it's a little too quiet._

A look of despair crossed John's face as he realized the implication of his last thought. _Oh God, I didn't just think that!_

As if on cue, Pilot's voice came from his comm. "Commander?"

John hesitated a moment before answering. "Pilot?"

"Is everything all right?"

John hesitated again, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Fine. Why?"

"Just curious. Was there anyplace in particular you wanted to go?"

"No place special, Pilot, unless there's someplace Aeryn wanted to go."

"Officer Sun suggested going to Hertzagavallia. It's a commerce planet."

"Fine. That'll be fine."

Pilot hesitated. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Fine. I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind. How long until we reach Herzegovina?"

"Hertagavallia."

"Whatever."

"Approximately four arns."

"Cool."

John started walking, but stopped. A sound, at first so faint that he barely heard it, came from behind him. Slowly, it got louder, sounding like a dull grinding noise. John turned slowly and saw a shape begin to form in the center of the corridor. It soon resolved into a tall blue structure, with a flashing light on its roof and the words _Police Public Call Box_ above the doors.

The light stopped blinking and the sound stopped grinding. The door opened and a tall man leaned out. He had an open, expressive face, unruly dark hair and wore a floppy hat. Draped around his neck, falling to the floor, was what seemed to John to be the longest scarf in existence.

The man looked around, frowned and looked at John. A broad smile crossed his face. "Hello," he said in a deep voice. "I don't suppose this is Blackpool?"

John's mouth hung open for a moment. "Ummm…no," he finally managed to say.

"Oh. Sorry to disturb you, then." The man reached into his pocket, pulled something out and tossed it to John. "Have a jelly baby. Goodbye!" He closed the door.

As the grinding sound started again, John heard the man say, "I'm sorry, Sarah. It looks like we made a wrong turn. Don't worry, we'll be there in a minute." The light began to blink and the box faded away.

John stared down the now empty corridor, then looked at the small candy he had caught. He swallowed and started walking. "Maybe I'll just take a nap."

_And definitely not mention this to Aeryn._

"…and cut!"

The director sighed, pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Now that the first scene was in the can, he could relax. The story was underway. They had the first scene, the title and the page numbers. The rest should be easy.

"All right, everyone! Let's get set up for the next scene! Are my guest stars here yet?"

A voice from behind him answered, "The Diggers Sisters are here."

"What about Scott and Zoe?"

"Not yet."

The director frowned then shrugged. The presence of Scott and Zoe wasn't critical…yet. There was one scene to do before he needed them.

He glanced over at John, who stood off to one side, looking pensive. "Good work, John."

"Thanks, man. Got a minute?"

"Only a minute. Something wrong?"

John looked around then leaned close to the director. "Look, I'm not questioning you, but…if you're going to get a guest star the stature of The Doctor, why are you only giving him a cameo?"

The director nodded. He had wondered the same thing. "Well, there's budgetary considerations, and…well…I'm not the one writing this."

John hesitated a moment. "Dude, this is all happening in your head."

"I know," the director said. "Kinda squirrelly, ain't it."

John took a step back and held up his hands in mock surrender. "I wanna live in your world, man."

"Yeah, don't we all. Make sure you're rested; I think there's an action sequence later." The director frowned as John leaned to one side. "What…?"

Behind him, a woman's voice said, "Jinkies…"

The director smiled. "Two of your guest stars. But let me ask you this, John: Do you really want to find out if Aeryn is the jealous type?"

John turned to the director as realization dawned on him. "I'm gonna go grab some coffee."

"Good man." The director turned to the two women walking toward him. Both were blonde and beautiful (though words like "huge" and "buxom" were also running through his mind). The shorter of the two sported a pair of large, wire-framed glasses and a fedora. The other stood a good head taller than the director, wearing a leather jacket over a close-fitting body suit. But it was her cat-like ears and the stripe that ran from her hairline, over her left eye, down to her chin.

"Gina! Brianna! Thanks for coming! Glad you could make it!"

Doctor Gina Diggers looked around, her blue eyes wide with amazement. "This is quite the set-up you've got here."

"Well, I can't take credit for it. I didn't create Moya, after all. I'm just borrowing her for a little while."

Brianna looked down at the director and frowned. "No, not Moya. We were poking around in your imagination. You've got some weird crap in there."

The director looked up at Brianna, reminding himself that she really was 6'10" tall. "Well, we all have our dark sides."

"Dark side? Manson had a dark side. You're downright evil."

Gina held up a hand and silenced Brianna. "That's enough, Brianna. Now, what's the scene?"

"Basically, the two of you are investigating a dragon's lair, trying to find the mymior. You turn a corner and find yourselves somehow transported to Moya."

Gina and Brianna stared at him, then exchanged blanks looks. "Wow," Brianna said. "Not really i_Star Wars_/i, is it."

The director sniffed. _Put someone in a successful independent comic book,_/i he thought, i_and they think they're friggin' Fellini. Of course, I wouldn't have borrowed them if Fred Perry wasn't a frellin' genius._

"It's been a while since I've worked on a fic. Did you bring Peebochu, Brianna?"

Brianna patted a jacket pocket. "He's taking a nap. He was out late last night with Peebri."

"Ah. Let me get someone to show you to…"

The sound of a man's voice, singing quietly, cut him off.

_Take my love, take my land…  
Take me where I cannot stand…  
I don't care, I'm still free…  
You can't take the sky from me…_

Gina blinked. "You invited the folks form _Firefly_?"

"Ummm…no. I didn't even get into the series until I saw the movie."

The director turned. Behind him, he found a man and woman, both dressed completely in black, though the long black duster and close fitting leather pants looked far better on the woman. "Hi, Scott, Zoe. Nice of you to show up."

"We were waiting for you to get back to our novel." Zoe walked past the director, trailing red hair that almost reached the floor. "You must be Gina! And you must be Brianna! Pleased to meet you."

The director watched Zoe for a moment then turned to Scott. "Is she in a mood or what?"

"Well, she does have a point. I mean, you left us standing in the middle of a corridor, in the middle of a conversation."

"Okay…all right…I promise, as soon as I finish this, I'll get back to you two."

"You've said that before."

The director sighed. _Every character thinks they're the center of the universe._

A hand tapped him on the shoulder. "Ummm…sir?"

The director turned and found a grip standing behind him. "Ummm…yes?"

"We may have a problem, sir. D'Argo's here."

The director winced. He was afraid this would happen. "What kind of mood is he in?"

"I think he's okay…maybe."

"Is Chiana around?"

"No, sir. She said something about going to the Riviera to, as she put it, 'loosen up those stodgy frellniks'."

"How about Jool?"

"She's auditioning for an opera."

"Well, she certainly does have the lungs for it." The director sighed. "All right. Show Gina, Brianna, Zoe and Scott to their dressing rooms. We should be ready to start shooting soon." He watched the grip lead the four away, then closed his eyes and muttered a prayer for strength.

He walked down the corridor and rounded a corner. D'Argo leaned against the wall, wearing jeans, heavy works boots and a t-shirt that said I'M YOUR DADDY! The shirt had seen better days.

The director forced a smile onto his face. "Hey, Heavy D! How're you doin', man? You're looking good!"

The look D'Argo turned on him could've made the director collapse into a quivering heap. "Cut the crap, wordboy. You know why I'm here."

"Yeah, I know, and I wish there was something I could do. But this is set after _Peacekeeper Wars_. To be blunt, by this time…you're dead."

D'Argo held the stare longer. "So that's it then. Thanks for you're the years of service, D'Argo! Don't call us, we'll call you!"

"Look, D, if something comes up, I'll give you a call. Have I ever let you down before?"

"Do you really want an answer?"

"Ah, no."

D'Argo sighed, massaged his eyes and pushed away from the wall. "Maybe I'll just find Scorpius and put together a rock band."

"There you go! Channel that creative energy into another venue! Take care, man. Give my best to Jothee." The director turned and walked away before he had a chance to have second thoughts.

As he rounded the corner, he grabbed another grip. "Get me a bottle of anything with a high alcohol content, a pack of cigarettes and a tube of model cement. Looks like I picked the wrong time to quite drinking, smoking and sniffing glue."

Then he heard…the voice…

"Pressure starting to get to you?"

The director turned slowly and saw her standing there, feet apart, hands firmly planted on leather-clad hips. Her right hand seemed to inch closer to the pulse pistol strapped to her leg. He tried not to concentrate on the piercing gaze that made him think the remainder of his life was measured in seconds.

"Aeryn! Babe! What can I do for you? How's Little D?"

Aeryn stepped closer to him. "He's taking a nap. Look, am I going to be in this at all?"

"Of course you are. Look, Aeryn, have I ever produced a fic where you weren't the star?"

"'Archangel'."

"Okay, except for that one."

"'Apparitions", too."

"That was a future AU fic. And you were in two thirds of it." The director stepped close to her and tried to ease her hand away from the pulse pistol. It was about as easy as trying to get Batman to lighten up. "Look, with just you, John and Little D here on Moya, you'll have a very good sized part."

"I'd better. Remember, I know where you live."

As she walked away, the director muttered, "So does everyone else."

A voice came from behind. "Sir, the writer wants to see you."

"The writer wants to see me. Okay, where is she…OWWWW!" He looked down as stabbing pain shot up his leg.

At his feet, pulling her claws from his leg, was a cat, ginger in color, with slightly darker highlights. A pair of wire-framed glasses were balanced on the end of her nose, and a pen was stuck behind one ear. (In all their years together, the director had never figured out how the pen stayed behind her ear.) Some would say she was an older cat. Some smarter people would say she was mature. Some even smarter, more experienced people wouldn't have mentioned her age at all. In one paw, she held a syringe.

"Yes, wordkitty?"

She held out the syringe to him. "You forgot to give me my insulin shot."

"No, I didn't forget. You get your next shot in about an hour. Now, what can I do for you?"

"Are you ever going to produce this?"

"I was on my way to do the next scene. Any input you'd like to give me?"

"No. If you can't get this done, I won't be writing for you anymore. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go. _Iron Chef America_ is coming on."

The director watched the cat walk away and sighed. "Why did I do another fic," he asked no one in particular.

He looked at his crew and sighed again. "All right, everyone! This fic isn't going to write itself! Let's get ready for the next shot!"


End file.
